


and love, and love, and love

by griefhoney



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, M/M, this is a shoot-me-i-can't-believe-i-wrote-this-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-04 20:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20477249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griefhoney/pseuds/griefhoney
Summary: yunho hasn't had to worry about the whole 'omega thing' for nine years, until one day he does.





	and love, and love, and love

Babies were never on any of Yunho's immediate to-do lists. 

They weren't on his to-do lists for next week, next month, next _year_. Not that he had lists like that, but if he _did_ babies wouldn't be on them. 

In fact, the idea of babies only ever makes its rare appearances on the little wishlists that Yunho keeps carefully tucked away in a solitary corner of his heart. He brings them out sometimes on especially quiet, balmy afternoons and dwells on them. 

Changmin has to-do lists too. 

Yunho knows this because Changmin came marching into his life with one. 

His to-do lists don't involve babies either, or at least Yunho's pretty sure they don't. Yunho once saw him glare at a baby so long that it stopped crying. 

An impressive feat but not entirely pedagogically sound. Especially not for someone who's training to be a teacher. 

"Earth to Yunho—_h__ello_?"

Blinking, Yunho looks around. 

Changmin's almost bent over backwards on the couch in the effort of looking at Yunho who's sitting at the kitchen table, fingers poised over the keyboard of his laptop. An unfinished email glares back at him. 

"Did you hear anything of what I just said?" Changmin asks. 

Still staring at the email which, for some reason, has not magically written itself while Yunho was lost in his own head, Yunho hazards a guess, "Um—something about your boss? Maybe?" 

Changmin sighs a long-suffering sigh. 

"I was asking you where you wanted to go to eat tomorrow. Free evening, remember?" 

This takes a couple of seconds to register with Yunho and when it does he's still a bit too distracted to give it any proper thought.

"You pick," he says, "you always know where to go." 

There's a long pause where Changmin simply stares at Yunho, eyes narrowed and mouth pressed together into a thin, thoughtful line. The skin on the back of Yunho's neck prickles and he shivers slightly under the scrutiny. 

"Is something wrong?" Changmin finally asks, eyes still narrowed. "You've been very quiet today." 

Yunho smiles and hesitantly types out the beginning of a fresh sentence, but when the pressure of Changmin's inquiring gaze doesn't lift he stops and says, "I'm fine—just tired."

*

Yunho had his last heat when he was 22. Then when his job got more demanding he switched from just contraceptives to actual suppressants and has lived happily and relatively unbothered for about nine years. Life is good, his job is fun and Changmin appeared somewhere along the way. 

And then suddenly, one evening Yunho's body just decides to stop. 

He's on his way home until he suddenly isn't and the next thing he knows he's lying in a hospital bed. The flimsy net curtains are drawn and the steady beep of his heartbeat makes Yunho's skin crawl. 

Then he spots the doctor, lurking near the foot of his bed. 

"You collapsed," the doctor says, a worried line between her eyebrows, "and have a mild concussion." 

Yunho tries to sit up, but when his head swims and his stomach churns he thinks better of it and sinks back down into the uncomfortably hard hospital pillows. "So I could go, right?" 

She frowns. "No. No, not really." There's a brief, worrying pause as she glances down at the file in her hands. "Mr Jung—"

"Yunho. Please. Call me Yunho," he interrupts. 

A small smile flits across the doctor's face before she continues, "Yunho, do you have any idea why you collapsed today?" 

"Uh... I don't—well, maybe I didn't eat enough. That happens sometimes."

The look she gives him in response to this makes him shrink back into his pillows with an apologetic little shrug. It's a look he's seen his mother and sometimes even Changmin wear all too many times.

"That probably didn't improve the situation, no," she mutters reproachfully. "But no. In your medical file, it says you presented as an Omega at the age of fourteen. Is that correct?"

Yunho nods. 

"And that you started using contraceptive medication at the age of nineteen?" 

He nods again, blushing slightly. 

Her gaze flickers further down the file and she says, "And suppressants since you were 22?" 

"Heats weren't really compatible with my job at the time," he hastens to explain. They might be in the 21st century but the stigma surrounding any sort of suppressant or contraceptive medication used by Omegas is still very present. 

"There is no judgement here," she says simply before moving on, "so what I am getting from all of this is that you have been on contraceptive medication for 12 years and on suppressants for around 9?" 

Yunho nods, unsure of where this is heading. 

She sighs and tucks her clipboard under her arm. 

"I have a feeling that I am right when assuming that you never took a break from this regimen?" When Yunho nods for the fourth time she sighs again. "Have you been feeling a bit off-colour recently? Cold-spells, dizziness, loss of appetite?" 

"I—" Yunho starts, a little distressed now. 

"Yunho-dear," she says, "you collapsed today because your body chemistry is _seriously_ out-of-sync. Your liver has sustained some very, _very_ minor damage that can be easily fixed, but if you continue this way…" she trails off. "Suppressants and contraceptives—although extremely useful—should not be used for nine or twelve years in a row. Breaks of _at least_ four months every year are necessary to keep your liver, thyroid and hormone levels healthy." 

Too stunned and horrified to speak Yunho just stares at her. 

"I honestly can't believe your doctor at the time didn't tell you this," she murmurs. "Absolutely reckless and unforgivable... putting a patient's life in danger like that." 

Yunho clears his throat a couple of times before finally managing to say, "So what—what now?" 

"Well," the doctor says, her tone suddenly business-like, "you will have to stop all suppressant and contraceptive usage immediately. That goes without saying. And we will also prescribe you something that will encourage your body's natural hormone production."

Feeling only slightly overwhelmed by all of this Yunho asks, "I—for how long? Will I have to inform my boss?"

"For at least a year—maybe two, depending on how quickly your body recovers. We'll have a big check-up about 6 months into the process and then we'll see from there, how about that? And yes, I would recommend it. Your heats will return, so it's better if your employer is aware of this." 

She smiles at him and Yunho gives her a rather weak one in return.

"We'll keep you in overnight and tomorrow you'll get everything you need to go back home, alright? This will include a week-long sick leave, which you will _not _break, okay?" 

It's not like he's got any choice in the matter, but Yunho nods anyway. 

The doctor heads for the door, but pauses abruptly and turns around again and says, "Oh, and there's a young Alpha downstairs at reception who says he's your partner, but neither he or you seem to be mated so we've kept him downstairs just to be safe."

"What did he say his name was?" He asks, stoutly ignoring the rising colour in his cheeks.

"Shim Changmin," the doctor says. 

"I—" if possible Yunho goes even pinker, "—yeah, that's—we're... together." 

Beaming the doctor turns back to the door but not before saying, "Lovely. I'll tell reception to send him up." 

*

Things don't really, obviously change until about two weeks into Yunho's recovery. He's back at work, happy to be doing something again after being cooped up in their two-bedroom apartment for a week straight. 

The office building looms like a big glass monstrosity out of the early morning gloom as he approaches it at a light jog, checking and re-checking his watch every couple of seconds. He's not late, but not exactly early either and agitation is bubbling in his stomach.

Panting and the skin on the back of his neck prickling with sweat Yunho reaches the large, glass front doors and reaches out to push them open. At the same time a large hand lands on the glass beside his and a voice from directly behind him says: 

"Please—allow me."

Yunho barely manages to suppress a yelp of surprise and turns around, only to get a belated whiff of—

_Right. _Alpha_._

He smiles as he holds the door open, standing just so that Yunho has no choice but to brush past him to get inside. The deep and obvious inhale he takes when Yunho's right elbow brushes lightly against his suit makes Yunho have to repress a shudder of disgust.

"Hey, wait—are you new here?" The man says, jogging to catch up with Yunho who promptly changes course and starts heading for the stairs instead of the lifts. 

"No," Yunho replies as politely as he can, "no, I've been working here for almost five years, actually."

The obnoxiously bright lights of the lobby are making Yunho's head throb dully and the prospect of taking fifteen flights of stairs simply to avoid being stuck in an enclosed space with this pushy asshole does nothing to curb the growing waves of pain. 

Rescue comes in the form of a short, dark-haired woman – an Alpha – who bursts out of one of the lifts with a shout of, "THERE YOU ARE!"

"Sorry," Yunho mutters vaguely and makes a break for the lifts, leaving his unwanted companion stranded near the stairs. 

"Why the _fuck_," hisses Boa when he reaches her, "do I have to find out you're back at work through _Heechul_. I've been bothering you for days about this and then you just show up unannounced? How could you?" 

He pouts and her mouth twitches into a reluctant smile. 

"Missed you too," he says as they head back to the lifts together. She smoothly steers him to the left when the man from earlier makes to cut them off and the doors slide shut on his disbelieving scowl. 

"Someone's not used to not getting what they want," Boa mutters and adds, "Was he very... obnoxious?" 

Yunho shrugs. "Don't really have much experience."

She sighs and frowns at her reflection in the lift's mirror-clad walls. "You better get used to it, love. I swear, most of the people here still think you're a Beta, so the looks you'll be getting in the next couple of days—_God_, doesn't bear imagining." 

The lift _dings_ softly as it reaches their floor and Boa waits until Yunho's stepped out into the corridor before following him. 

"You're doing it too," he says, shifting the strap of his bag a little higher onto his shoulder as they start their trek through the maze of glass-fronted conference rooms, offices and cubicles. 

"Doing what?" 

He gestures vaguely. "_Shadowing_ me—I don't know—it's weird." 

"Well, if you think I'll be holding doors open for you and suddenly start paying for lunch you've got another thing coming." 

This makes Yunho laugh; genuinely thankful that Boa, at least, won't consciously start acting differently around him just because he's started carrying a scent again. And if she does get a bit more protective of him then he's not going to complain. Having a friend with an Alpha or Beta endotype in a work environment that hasn't always been welcoming to people like Yunho isn't a bad thing to have at all.

"Just shout if someone starts giving you grief, alright?" Boa says when they reach Yunho's little office. "I have some connections in HR and if you want they'll be gone within a week."

"That's—that's not—" she gives him a _look_, cocking her head inquiringly and Yunho finishes lamely, "—thank you."

*

"How did the presentation go?" Yunho calls while slipping out of his shoes and nudging them next to Changmin's worn out Oxfords.

The door to Changmin's makeshift study bangs open and a frantic, clearly sleep-deprived Changmin emerges. He takes a deep breath, opens his mouth to speak and then stops; freezing comically with one hand still on the door handle. 

"Changmin?" 

He slams the door shut again and Yunho's left staring at the space he had just occupied. 

"Um," Yunho says out loud, "_okay_."

It takes several minutes for Changmin to reemerge in which time Yunho's already put the kettle on to boil and is in the motions of finding something more comfortable to change into. He still looks pale, cheekbones standing out harshly in the fading golden light from the windows. 

This kind of light seeps into everything, filling the room until it's glowing from the inside out, and Yunho – suddenly very aware of himself – drops the sweater he found back onto the pile on the sofa.

Changmin comes closer, hands clenched into fists in his pockets.

He loved Yunho when he thought Yunho was a Beta and continued to love him after Yunho came clean about the suppressants he had been disguising as magnesium supplements. No biological imperative had pushed them together. Just love. 

But there's a bit more than love – something different that Yunho has never seen there before – in the expression on Changmin's face. 

Yunho lets him approach, heartbeat thumping violently in his throat and fingertips. Every nerve ending in his body has zeroed on Changmin, on the space between them that's shrinking with every second until they're only inches apart and Yunho's whole body feels like it's on fire.

Standing this close Yunho can practically _taste_ the air between them. Aftershave, something earthy and fresh – fruit of some kind – and salt. 

Without thinking, Yunho takes a deep breath, taking in a whole lungful and his shoulders slump as something almost like warmth settles over his senses. It makes his head spin. 

"I sort of," Changmin starts, voice oddly hoarse, "forgot that this was going to be a thing." 

The gold is fading out of the air around them; replacing it is the pale, grey-ish blue of dusk. They'll have a few more minutes of this blue light before nighttime sets in for real and they're plunged into the polluted darkness of the city. 

"Is it very bad?" 

Changmin laughs a quiet, disbelieving sort of laugh and says, "Don't be _stupid_. You smell like... like summer or something."

"I was born in February," Yunho says, playing dumb and Changmin groans and rolls his eyes. 

"You know what I mean," he mutters as his hands find Yunho's hips and his mouth finds the newly hypersensitive skin of Yunho's throat. "That soap that discontinued centuries ago—jasmine and citrus—and... and grass? I don't know." 

With some difficulty, Yunho manages to extract himself to stare at Changmin in disbelief. 

"_Grass_?" 

*

July bleeds into August, which arrives baring the gifts of summer storms and broken air-conditioning units. 

"Have you told your parents that you're off suppressants yet?" Changmin asks one morning, peering at Yunho over the rim of a steaming cup of coffee. His hair's still damp and curling slightly from the hot shower he managed to steal from under Yunho's nose.

Yunho hums noncommittally around a mouthful of yoghurt. 

"So... _no_?"

He can feel Changmin's gaze boring into him and after two more spoonfuls Yunho finally replies, "I just—I don't know what to tell them." 

"It's not like your mother was a big fan of the whole suppressant-thing," Changmin says gently.

Keeping his gaze trained on the pieces of apple and date in the bowl in front of him Yunho tries to think of a way to best word what he wants to say – what's been sitting on his mind since the whole fiasco back in July. 

"I don't need—" he sighs, frustrated, "—she'll give me the whole I-told-you-so-spiel and I really... I don't need that right now." 

Changmin gives him a wry smile and adds, "Not exactly _my _biggest fan either, is she? Suppose that doesn't help." 

The two living room windows are open, letting in the fresh morning air. Even so, Yunho still feels uncomfortably hot, almost feverish. It's a kind underlying warmth that he recognises, if only faintly.

The subject of Yunho's upcoming heat – his first in nine years – hasn't come up yet, at least not directly. Mostly because Yunho's unsure of how to broach the subject and because Changmin seems to have decided to leave this to Yunho. It's very gentlemanly and modern of him and Yunho respects this wholeheartedly, but also can't help resenting Changmin a little for being so passive about all of this. 

Obviously, they've had sex before, but heat-sex is an entirely different playing field that involves a whole new set of rules and input from _both _parties involved.

Yunho hasn't had to think about these kinds of things for _nine_ years. The heats he had as a teenager, although painful, incredibly demeaning and uncomfortable, had, at least, been uncomplicated. He's never had to share heat with someone, doesn't know how to ask and isn't even sure if Changmin wants to in the first place.

After all, Changmin's in the final stages of his training to become a teacher and he's got enough on his plate as it is without worrying about a heat-sick Omega. The last thing Yunho wants to do is add a burden onto Changmin's shoulders who's starting crack slightly under the strain.

"Hey—"

Yunho jumps as a delightfully cool hand brushes against his burning hot cheek. 

"—stop that," Changmin says. 

He looks tired, worn out and worried and Yunho's stomach twists violently with guilt. His breakfast feels like it's about to make a second, unwanted appearance and he drops his spoon with a loud clatter. 

There's no way he can ask him. Not yet, not _now_. 

*

"This is still so weird," Heechul says, eyes narrowing as Yunho takes a cautious sip of his drink. "Like... _really_ weird." 

The venue Heechul picked is made almost entirely of steel and glass, reflecting and magnifying the hundreds of brightly coloured LED lights that are stuck on every available surface. To complete this look of streamlined hedonism there's a young DJ bopping around in the corner, busy making conversations difficult with the loud techno music that he's magicking out of his Mac. 

"You smell nice though," he adds. "Sort of sweet, but not too much. Like lemon and sugar pancakes." 

"Thanks," Yunho says as dry as a desert. 

He takes another sip of whatever Heechul had ordered for him and grimaces, casting a nervous eye at the tables around them. 

"And how's Changmin coping?" 

Yunho refocuses his attention back on his friend and shrugs. 

People keep asking how _Changmin's_ coping, not how _he's_ doing, which is starting to get on his nerves a little. It's not like Changmin's basically going through a second kind of puberty (minus all of the worst stuff) and feeling some of the effects through the newly bold advances of Alphas at work or some people on the subway taking a pair of tight jeans as an invitation. 

The irritation at this makes him knock back the rest of the drink, ignoring Heechul's raised eyebrows. Then he glances at the slowly filling dancefloor and makes up his mind. 

"I think I'll go dance for a bit," he says, getting to his feet. 

Heechul promptly follows. "Not alone, you aren't." 

Annoyance swells in Yunho's chest and he grits out, "I think I can look after myself, thanks." 

"I'm not saying you can't," Heechul says, grabbing him by the elbow and steering him towards the writhing mass of bodies on the dancefloor, "but you're unmarked and still pretty new to all of this shit." 

Then, catching sight of the scowl on Yunho's face, he adds, "Changmin will hunt me for sport if anything happens to you." 

His tone is gentle, which makes Yunho's skin itch.

He's tired; tired of being patronised every hour of every goddamn day and so, in an act of petulant rebellion, he twists out of Heechul's grip and disappears into the crowd without so much as a backwards glance. Heechul lets him go, brow creased with resignation.

It's warm in the middle of the dancefloor – warmer than Yunho remembers from his last couple of trips into Seoul's nightlife – almost smothering, but also nice in a way. The music pulses through his veins and he lets the warmth and the mingling scents of the people around him settle onto his senses, muffling them a bit so that everything feels _just_ on the right side of hazy. 

The dancefloor is darker than the rest of the bar. The lights are muted and Yunho has the distant notion that this semi-darkness is there to encourage everyone to drop their inhibitions a little, to hide their wants and desires behind the dim pink and purple lights.

A pair of warm hands find his hips and Yunho lets himself be guided further into the crowd. 

This blissful fogginess only lasts a couple of minutes, however, because the scent that Yunho catches when the stranger leans down to nose boldly at the crook of his neck makes Yunho's stomach cramp painfully. _Wrong, wrong, wrong_—

He wrenches himself free and stumbles blindly into a solid chest accompanied by a pair of dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

"Hey there, kitten." 

Yunho backs away, horrified. His senses – no longer dulled by alcohol – have spiked with panic and the mingling scents of the sweaty bodies all around him have been drained of their warm soothing effect. He's left with his head spinning and his stomach churning, helplessly rooted to the spot.

Then a pale, obnoxiously be-ringed hand reaches out through a group young women to Yunho's left and _pulls_.

Suddenly he's nose-to-nose with an ashen-faced Heechul, whose grip on his forearm is bordering on painful. But he's familiar, his scent is familiar – cloying and difficult to ignore – and Yunho practically collapses in his arms. 

"I think that's enough for one night," Heechul mutters as he hauls Yunho off the dancefloor and back into safer territory. 

Yunho manages to pull himself back together, at least enough to argue, "But the other's haven't even—" but he falters under the look Heechul gives him, "—arrived yet," he finishes meekly. However relaxed and forward-thinking Heechul might be, he's still older than Yunho and can carry a fair amount of authority when he feels like it.

"I'll tell them you weren't feeling well," Heechul says, unperturbed by Yunho's feeble protests. "And we'll go somewhere a bit quieter next time, yeah?" 

Pouting Yunho lets himself be shepherded towards the exit. "I don't want our nights out to get boring just because I'm... because I'm _impaired_," he says, not meeting Heechul's eye as he does. 

"Don't say stuff like that," Heechul says, voice low, "you're not _impaired_. It'll be easier once you've had your heat and Changmin's marked you. Then we can go clubbing again—as often as you want—and you don't have to worry about shit like that happening again."

"You say that like it's a certainty," Yunho mutters under his breath.

Heechul comes to an abrupt halt. 

"You _don't_ want him to mark you?" He asks, aghast. 

It's dark in the cloakroom so Yunho doesn't bother doing anything about the colour that rises into his cheeks. 

"I _do_," he says and hopes Heechul didn't catch the slightly plaintive note in his voice, "but I don't know if _he_ wants to."

Heechul is staring at him like this is the first time they've ever met and Yunho – still bright pink – folds his arms defensively. He's not about to be lectured about marking and claiming by someone who hasn't had a relationship that's lasted longer than two months.

"_Don't know if he wants to_," Heechul repeats weakly. "We are talking about the same Changmin, aren't we?" 

Yunho glares at him and says nothing. 

"This is _Changmin_ we're talking about, right? _Shim Changmin_. You do realise that the only reason he _hasn't_ claimed you for the whole wide world to see was because—one: you were on suppressants, two: you didn't want him to and three: because your mother would kill him." 

He's staring at Yunho, imploring him to understand. 

"And _now_," he says, speaking as if to a cute but rather stupid toddler, "you're off suppressants, you _want_ him to mark you and your mother has finally pretty much resigned herself to the fact that Changmin is _it_ for you." 

The fight drains out of Yunho all at once and his shoulders slump. 

"It's not that easy," he mumbles.

"Yeah, it is!" Heechul beams with the confidence of someone who's never had to worry about something like this. 

*

Yunho manages to drag himself to the doctors on a blustery September afternoon. 

He sits in the waiting room with a cup of slightly grey-ish coffee and a copy of some wildlife magazine for company. Opposite him are a young couple with a squirming three-year-old, an old woman wrapped in several coats and a young man – late teens, early twenties – who looks even more nervous than Yunho feels.

The sympathetic smile Yunho gives him is returned with the boy's own brave attempt at a smile. 

Yunho's half-way through an extensive article about the return of wolves in mainland Europe when a nurse pops her head around the waiting room door and calls, "Jung Yunho?" 

Brushing non-existent dust off of his jeans Yunho stands up. 

The doctor isn't in his office when Yunho gets ushered inside. Instead, he's presented with a clipboard and a by now all too familiar questionnaire, which includes – but isn't limited to – delightful questions about his emotional state, sex drive and eating habits. 

He's only about a quarter of the way through when the doctor enters, smelling strongly of disinfectant and rosemary.

They sit in awkward silence until Yunho finishes the final question, puts the biro back into the little cup by the doctor's computer and pushes the completed questionnaire across the desk into his waiting hands. 

After a few more uncomfortable questions that leave Yunho red in the face, they finally move on to the other familiar routine. Blood and saliva samples are taken and Yunho has to endure the cold press of a stethoscope against his back and chest, resenting the doctor a little because it was from him that Yunho got the reassurance that this new hypersensitivity would wear off within the first month.

The whole ordeal lasts about twenty minutes. 

"Your lab results will be sent to you in the next two days, but if there are any anomalies we will inform you via a phone call—although that seems unlikely seeing as you have been responding very well to the treatment. We will also include our medical prediction for your next heat, if that's okay."

Yunho nods, and then not wanting to be rude, says, "Yes, that would be great." 

He leaves the building feeling parts relieved, parts strangely anxious. The prospect of heat and all the baggage that comes along with it hangs over his head like a heavy, rain logged cloud.

*

The subway carriage rattles around a tight corner and Yunho sways dangerously for a moment before a warm, comforting palm settles over the small of his back and Yunho looks up to find Changmin grinning down at him.

They're pressed almost chest to chest in the cramped confines of the 5 PM rush. 

It's been a long day for both of them. Yunho hasn't had an opportunity to sit down and just _breathe_ since he took the bus to work this morning and Changmin looks as tired as ever, every line of his body screaming with tension that's been building for months and months.

And yet, he still made the detour to pick Yunho up from work.

"Everything alright?" Changmin whispers as the train screeches to a stop and some people push past them to get out.

Yunho opens his mouth to reply, but Changmin – spotting a space near the far wall of the carriage – swiftly moves to crowd Yunho against it. He hits the wall with a soft _oof_ and Changmin promptly positions himself just so that he's partially shielding Yunho from view; away from the lingering glances of their fellow passengers.

Taking a deep, steadying breath Yunho lets Changmin's scent wash over him. 

Its soothing effect must show on his face because when he looks up again Changmin's eyes have crinkled into a smug little smile. 

Yunho glares at him, albeit a bit half-heartedly. 

The train jolts back into motion and Yunho shuts his eyes, finally surrendering to the strange drowsiness and uncomfortable warmth that have been plaguing him all day. He feels _nice_; comfortable and safe. Cocooned by the muffled noise of the train and Changmin filling up the space directly in front of him. 

Finally the last of Yunho's self-restraint fades away and he tips forward slightly, letting his forehead rest on Changmin's shoulder. 

"You're like a safety blanket," he mumbles without thinking. 

Changmin snorts and gently – trying not to jostle Yunho too much – winds an arm around his waist, pulling him closer until Yunho's back has left the wall almost entirely and his only real anchor is Changmin.

*

After the magazine aisle in the local convenience store fails him Yunho turns, a little shamefacedly, to the Internet. 

It takes two cups of coffee and an impromptu need to manically tidy up the kitchen for him to overcome his initial embarrassment.

And he's rearranged half the living room by the time he finally manages to boot up his laptop only to immediately shut it again, nervously glancing around the empty flat as if his mother's going to melt out of the shadows and give him a lecture.

But he's alone. It's just him, Naver, a half-empty cup of coffee and the fading autumn sunshine. 

Gritting his teeth Yunho forces the last bit of embarrassment deep down into the pit of his stomach and starts typing. He can still feel his mother's presence staring imperiously over his shoulder as he types _how to ask your partner to spend heat with you_ into the search bar, but tries to ignore that too.

_1.010.000.000 results (0,69 seconds)_

Yunho drains the last dredges of his coffee and gets to work. 

*

Yunho wakes up from the nap he took to dispell the restlessness and prickling heat that has been his constant companion for the last couple of days feeling more rested than he has in _ages_. It's as if his whole world has been wrapped in cotton, muting every uncomfortable sensation.

Wincing slightly as the muscles in his back protest Yunho pushes himself up onto his elbows to look around. 

The flat is still cast in a warm semi-darkness, the curtains are pulled shut muting the sunset into a soft red glow and there's a blanket draped over Yunho's legs that wasn't there when he collapsed onto the couch a few hours ago.

And then – hidden slightly in the red-tinted gloom – Yunho spots Changmin, sitting cross-legged at the coffee table.

He's close enough for Yunho to feel the warmth radiating off of him, accompanied by the familiar earthy scent and something that makes Yunho think of fresh red apples.

Autumn suits Changmin, he thinks nonsensically and understanding at this unfamiliar feeling of bone-deep calm creeps into Yunho's mind and, reassured, he sinks back onto the sofa and lets his eyes fall shut for just a little longer. 

But an idea has taken root in his brain and he opens his eyes again to glare at the ceiling. 

He clears his throat. "Changmin?" 

A couple of be-scribbled papers go flying as Changmin jumps, turning to stare at Yunho as if he's a ghost. Then his expression smooths over into something familiarly smug and he asks, "Did you sleep alright?" 

Yunho raises his eyebrows, unimpressed, and sits up.

"The doctor says my heat's coming up this month," he says without preamble, surprising himself a bit. After spending weeks and _weeks_ agonising and fretting over this subject this new boldness seems to come out of nowhere. 

Changmin freezes in the middle of getting to his feet and is left crouching awkwardly, gaze fixed unwaveringly on Yunho, whose burst of confidence falters a bit under this scrutiny.

"And?" Changmin asks. 

His tone has dropped into something low and private and Yunho can feel hot, burning colour rising into his cheeks. 

"I—" he starts, "—do you want to—I was just wondering—"

Yunho's breath stutters out of him in a gasp when he's suddenly being pressed back against the arm of the couch, Changmin caging him in. There's something tense and slightly predatory about the line of his shoulders as he bears down on Yunho, eyes glinting in the gloom.

"S-should I take this as a yes," Yunho manages to force out of his suddenly dry throat. 

Pulling one hand away from where it had been bracing against the arm of the sofa Changmin gently presses two fingers against Yunho's throat, then the underside of his chin, nudging his face up. This display of quiet control makes Yunho's eyes slip shut and his mouth fall open in a silent, plaintive sigh. 

"Definitely."

*

It's late in the afternoon when Changmin sits down in the chair opposite Yunho and pushes a glass of water and his phone across the kitchen table. Yunho's mother's contact glows brightly on the screen between them.

"You need to call her," he says. 

Yunho chews on the drawstring of the hoodie he'd stolen from Changmin and stares at the phone, quietly wishing it could just disappear.

After a long pause, he finally says, "I don't want to." 

He's being unreasonable and he knows it. It's just, being reasonable is becoming increasingly difficult – taking up energy that Yunho simply does not have to spare. He's already got enough on his plate trying to ignore his spiking temperature and every instinct telling him to hide in Changmin's side of the wardrobe and stay there until the world becomes less loud and grating. 

The last thing he needs is a two-hour lecture about his life-choices and his mother's own freshly curated list of Gwanju's most eligible Alphas.

Changmin's looking at him, gaze roving over his face. His expression is so open, earnest and _searching_ that Yunho can't bear to look at him, afraid he might do something irrational like burst into tears.

"Do you want me to do it?" He asks softly. 

Yunho makes a vague, noncommital noise around the drawstring between his teeth and with a sigh Changmin pushes the glass further across the table and in the same motion grabs the phone and gets to his feet, his thumb hovering over the call button.

"You might want to—" he jerks his head in the direction of their bedroom and Yunho does not have to be told twice.

He drifts off to the muffled sound of Changmin's voice. 

*

There's a brief moment when Yunho wakes up where the full gravity of his situation hasn't hit him yet and he's still lost in the comfortable warmth somewhere between sleeping and waking, cocooned in the hazy memory of a dream so real he can still feel the heat of it burning just beneath his skin.

And then, suddenly, he's wide awake. 

The room is still dark, curtains drawn shut, and Changmin's side of the bed is cold.

Panic – not like anything Yunho's ever experienced before – breaks through the fog clouding his mind and he cries out. It's a desperate, broken sound that, if Yunho had been in a different state of mind, would've embarrassed him a great deal. 

But right now none of that matters. What matters is the heat scorching him, the awful roiling tension in the pit of his stomach, the wetness between his thighs and the fact that Changmin _isn't there_. 

In a desperate effort to quell the panic that's making his heart rabbit frantically in his chest, Yunho rolls onto his side so that he's lying, curled up in the middle of the bed. He's too hot; wearing too many layers, but still, he burrows deep into sheets that still carry Changmin's scent. 

Despite the irrational panic, Yunho can't help the moan that escapes him as he presses his legs together, trying to ease the ache. 

"You—you _bastard_," he manages to grit out before a fresh wave of heat and slick blindside him for a second, knocking him speechless. Arching helplessly he rolls onto his stomach, moaning against the pillows at the sudden friction and pressure he's confronted with. He lets out a choked sob as he works his hips and an orgasm slips over him like a wave of hot water.

Frustrated, Yunho cries out again, rolling onto his back and struggling weakly against the sheets that are clinging to him like a second skin. 

He feels like he's about to suffocate. 

Minutes that feel like centuries pass and Yunho comes twice, just at the thought of someone's hands on him. Changmin's face swims blurrily above him and Yunho whines, reaching out without thinking. 

It's with a distant, muted kind of shock that he registers the hot, very real skin against his fingertips. And then his vision refocuses so abruptly it makes him dizzy. Suddenly Changmin is all he can see, the smell and sheer presence of him filling up every crevice of Yunho's mind and panic disappears only to be replaced by a wild desperation.

He wants to ask why Changmin wasn't there when he woke up, wants to scream and kick, but what he wants most of all his Changmin's skin against his.

"_Stay_," Changmin growls and starts to work on manhandling Yunho out of his clothes. 

*

Day two and three of Yunho's heat pass over him like a fever dream. 

Sensations and colours blur together into one seemingly endless haze and he's left at the mercy of his own rioting body. It's smothering, always too much, never letting up until he's crying for it to be over while also begging for it to never stop. 

"Please, please, _please_—" 

Changmin grins as he mouths at the spot in the crook of Yunho's neck and a white-hot feeling sparks down Yunho's spine, making him arch and writhe under Changmin's vice-like grip. 

But he doesn't bite like Yunho's brain is demanding him to and Yunho goes limp in his arms. 

Instead, Changmin settles himself behind Yunho – his chest pressed against Yunho's back – and presses apologetic little kisses against the dips and curves of his spine. 

*

It's on day four that Changmin finally does it – when Yunho's just starting to regain some of his sanity – that's when he gets demanding, unrelenting. There's a barely controlled ruthlessness in the way he bends Yunho over every available surface in their flat and keeps him there until he's finished.

On the fourth day, something breaks open in Yunho's chest, spilling all over the ruined sheets of their bed. 

He's incoherent, completely overwhelmed by a need that he doesn't understand. 

And then he's crying, staring up into Changmin's lust-blown eyes as he brushes away the tears spilling down Yunho's cheeks with his thumbs. Then he leans down to press a surprisingly chaste kiss against the corner of Yunho's mouth before moving along his jaw and the sweat-slick line of his throat, murmuring sweet, comforting words that Yunho doesn't understand but soothe him all the same.

When he reaches the spot that makes Yunho's blood _sing_, he glances up, looking for confirmation that this is what Yunho wants.

And in a moment of startling clarity, Yunho nods.

He threads his fingers through Changmin's hair, catches the glint and flash of his teeth and arches off the bed, letting the bite wash over him like the tide – a tide that's finally bringing him home. 

*

Yunho emerges from his heat feeling better than he had in _months_.

As if somewhere in those five days the world had settled into place around him after an eternity of unrest and turmoil. He's also pretty sure this feeling of bone-deep peace is going to wear off as soon as he has to go back to work, so he might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

"You look... happy," Changmin says, grinning and looking very pleased with himself when he comes home one day to find Yunho freshly showered and lounging in the living room wearing one of his pullovers.

Yunho fixes him with a look that does nothing but make his grin grow to truly shit-eating proportions.

"And you seem... more obnoxious than usual," Yunho retaliates pleasantly. 

Kicking off his shoes Changmin saunters further into the room and says, "Just for you." 

It's a bright, red-gold late October evening and Yunho's basking in the light spilling in from the living room windows like a pampered cat. He's completely at peace with the world and Changmin doesn't hesitate to take advantage of this.

*

"It's," Yunho's mother says, her tone clipped, "it's lovely to see you."

Outside the bare trees lining the street sway in the wind and clouds – big, poofy white ones – are racing across the brilliantly blue sky, as if they've all got somewhere very important to be. They haven't had a day this nice in _weeks_ and Yunho dearly wishes he could be outside enjoying it instead of being cooped up in a stuffy coffee shop with his mother and her everpresent disapproval. 

"_Both_ of you," she quickly amends, her gaze reluctantly skating over Changmin, who smiles.

They sit in deeply uncomfortable silence until a waiter hurries over and deposits their respective drinks in front of them. Changmin has a simple cup of coffee, his mother an espresso and Yunho had – to Changmin's great amusement – caved and ordered a hot chocolate. 

After taking a careful sip from her espresso Yunho's mother fixes him with a piercing look and asks, "So, how have you been feeling?"

"_Great_," Yunho says emphatically, "I feel great. The big check-up is in December, before Christmas, but the doctor's say I shouldn't have anything to worry about. Everything's been going really well so far." 

"Famous last words," she says and lifts her cup to her lips. 

Yunho doesn't know how to reply to this so he just smiles, reaching for his own cup to fill the silence. 

"You're not pregnant are you?" She asks, completely out of the blue. 

It catches both Yunho and Changmin completely off-guard and Changmin chokes on his coffee, doubling over with a hand pressed over his mouth. Yunho isn't doing much better, staring at his mother with watering eyes. 

"_What_—I—no, no. No, I'm not—I can't," he says a little breathlessly, "my levels—they haven't—they're not stable yet." 

"Do you want to?" 

The bluntness of this question makes Yunho turn pink, avoiding even glancing at Changmin, who's suddenly gone very still. 

"I haven't thought about it," he lies, speaking more to the melting cream in his hot chocolate than his mother sitting opposite him. "And anyway," he adds quickly, "I can't. I have a job and we can't afford me going on leave."

"Oh, right—_of course_. How could I forget," Yunho's mother bites out with a nasty look at Changmin, who meets it with a cool look of his own. "Tell me, are you going to be employed any time soon or are you going to continue leeching off of my son?" 

"_Mom_," Yunho hisses, temper flaring immediately.

But Changmin is calm as he replies, "I have a few more months of teacher training left, then one more written exam in April and then when I finish that I'll be assigned to a school in the area." 

"_If _you pass the exam." 

"No," Changmin corrects, unfazed, "_when_." 

The silence that follows this is heavy enough to make Yunho light-headed. 

*

When Yunho heads back to the hospital in December for his big check-up he drags Changmin with him.

He comes with only minimal complaining and ends up spending three very productive hours in a cramped waiting room, marking essays and sharing a packet of gummy bears with a couple of kids who are waiting for their mother, who's apparently going through a similar procedure.

He's completely surrounded by the time Yunho reappears, his marking lying abandoned on a nearby chair and his lap full with a happily chattering five-year-old. 

"Having fun?" Yunho asks as he approaches. 

Changmin grimaces, but Yunho isn't fooled that easily. He knows that pleased glint in Changmin's eyes.

After a couple of lengthy – and in one case – tearful goodbyes they finally manage to leave the hospital, stepping out into watery December sunshine. The smell of snow is in the air, confirmed by the menacing bank of clouds coming in from the East. 

"And?" Changmin asks as they begin their trek to the nearest subway station. "How was it?" 

Yunho shrugs. "Not as bad as I thought it was going to be. The doctor who was supposed to do my bloodwork was late and then it ended up taking _ages_ because the vein in my left arm sort of... swole when they tried to draw blood."

He shrugs off Changmin's muttered curse with a smile and continues, "But they got it done in the end. Oh, and did you know that for these kinds of physicals they only use Omegan nurses and doctors? Every single person who treated me today was either an Omega or a Beta—not one Alpha in sight." 

"Did you mind?" 

"No! No, it was great," Yunho says immediately and Changmin laughs. 

They walk in silence for a while, both of them hunching slightly against the icy wind whipping through the streets. 

"But you're okay, right? Everything's going to plan?" Changmin asks after a while, reaching out to take Yunho's gloved hand in his bare one and Yunho doesn't miss the note of tension in his voice, so he's quick to reassure. 

"I'm fine," he says gently, "they said I'm adjusting better than most." But Changmin still looks a little edgy so Yunho elaborates, "My levels are stabilising a lot quicker than they initially expected, but they've decided to keep me on supplementary treatment for a bit longer—just to make sure. They could technically prescribe me suppressants again—not an auto-fill prescription—just a regular one, but I... well, I said no."

Changmin comes to such a sudden halt that Yunho skids on the frozen pavement before stopping as well.

"You said _no_?" 

He doesn't sound upset, just surprised and Yunho turns scarlet as he hastens to explain. 

"I just—I've just gotten used to the whole thing, you know? And I don't hate _all_ of it. I don't miss the constant pill-taking and all the shit that came along with it and—well, it turns out my company actually has a really good benefits package for Omegas, so heats and all that stuff wouldn't be a problem." 

"Right," Changmin says, sounding a bit strangled, "cool." 

"I could get a prescription at any time," Yunho adds a little frantically, "in case it does become a problem."

Changmin seems to be going through a very complex set of emotions and Yunho watches him in silence, anxiously waiting for his verdict. He doesn't know what he would do if Changmin disagrees with his decision. 

"Are you sure about this?" Changmin finally says, stepping forward and catching both of Yunho's hands in his. 

They'd let go at some point during Yunho's explanation. 

His eyes are wide and earnest, roving over Yunho's face in search of any sign of uncertainty or doubt and Yunho's heart clenches painfully. There's a lump in his throat and he blinks up at the darkening sky willing himself to get a grip. 

"I'm sure," he confirms, his voice a little wobbly but unmistakably resolute. 

"You're sure," echoes Changmin. 

Relief makes his shoulders sag and Yunho laughs as he slumps forward, letting his forehead drop onto Yunho's shoulder. His scent mingles with the freezing air in a contrast that makes Yunho's head swim – a familiar, earthy warmth mixed with the promise of snow.

**Author's Note:**

> IVE NEVER WRITTEN ABO BEFORE CAN YOU TELL


End file.
